[Intro]
[Verse 1]
Sipping espresso in a velvet blazer,
Mirror shades hide a borrowed phrase-maker.
Your vintage vinyl spins a hollow tune,
Monocle opinions under a plastic moon.
[Chorus]
Oh, we’re so profound in our rented rooms,
Dancing to chords that we never could prove.
Aesthetic sermons, but the truth’s a mess—
We’re just mannequins in retro dress.
[Verse 2]
You quote French films with a misplaced grin,
Your typewriter clacks but the words are thin.
A Polaroid smile, a thrift-store creed,
Philosophy’s a prop for the pose you need.
[Chorus]
Oh, we’re so profound in our rented rooms,
Dancing to chords that we never could prove.
Aesthetic sermons, but the truth’s a mess—
We’re just mannequins in retro dress.
[Bridge]
Is the irony lost in the reverb haze?
Or are we all just chasing yesterday’s praise?
The jangle fades, the synth line repeats—
A hollow crown for the obsolete.
[Outro]
